


if you would shed your yellow, take my hand

by thunderylee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Marauders' Era, Masturbation, POV First Person, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism, assplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-14
Updated: 2006-05-14
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:03:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12853377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: A hand is a hand in the dark.





	if you would shed your yellow, take my hand

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for hpdissemination 2006.

You’d think I’d know better than to Apparate straight into your bedroom uninvited. Granted, I’m always invited at your house, and you can’t say you weren’t expecting me. I never could take more than a couple of days with my so-called family, even if it _is_ Christmas. And I wasn’t about to pop up right in the middle of your mum and dad’s private holiday celebration, either. I learned that lesson last year.

I’m not going to lie; the sight of you stretched out on your bed, legs spread and pants lying in a heap on the floor, shocks me a bit. You’re clutching your shirt in one hand, raising it up enough to reveal the line of dark hairs leading towards where your other hand is wrapped around stiff, pulsating flesh.

You pause in your efforts when you catch sight of me materializing before your half-closed eyes, a pale and panicked look on your face.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I say softly, lowering my trunk to the floor.

“Lily just left,” you mumble, your voice strained. Your fingers slide up to the top of your cock and squeeze the head; I watch as your whole body shudders and an almost nonexistent moan passes through your lips.

“Still not letting you past second base, eh?” I chuckle as I take a seat on the edge of your bed, facing away from where you are laid out like a wanton whore. “She must know what she does to you. You wank ten times as much since you’ve been with her.”

“She’s not a tease,” you say sharply, defending your girlfriend. “And how do you know how much I wank?”

“It’s a small dorm,” I reply. “Even after learning silencing spells, there’s no way one person can ‘study in the privacy of their bed’ so much.”

You feign a groan of irritation, one which has an underlying persistent rumble from whatever you are doing to yourself behind my back.

“Do you want me to go hang out in the bathroom while you, um, finish?” I ask, starting to feel uncomfortable.

“If you wanted to leave, you would have done so already,” you say firmly. Your tone is so pronounced that I snap my head around in disbelief.

You smirk at me, the corners of your lips curling upwards into the flush of your cheeks. “This is awkward,” you declare needlessly. “But I don’t want to stop and you obviously don’t want to leave.”

I nod because I can’t argue. My eyes meet yours; the shiny glaze peeking out under your heavy lids tells me you’re too far in to stop even if your parents _and_ Lily burst into the room.

Without averting your stare from me, the hand that was fisting your shirt lifts up to expose more of your bare chest, dragging your short fingernails lightly across the concave of your stomach until they brush over a small nipple, erect and pink with arousal. Your breath hitches in your throat and you squeeze your cock from base to tip, swirling your thumb around the slit as though you’re teasing yourself worse than Lily ever could.

My own cock twitches at your reaction, swelling of its own accord and straining against the confines of my stiff holiday trousers. You seem to be reading my mind and lower your eyes to my crotch, grinning wickedly when you see the very obvious bulge in my robes.

“You know,” you begin nonchalantly, like we were hanging out in the Gryffindor common room procrastinating doing our homework instead of in your bedroom with matching erections, “I’d feel a lot better about doing this in front of you if you were doing it too.”

I raise an eyebrow, but my traitorous cock twitches again at the suggestion. A herd of stampeding hippogriffs couldn’t keep me from moving a hand underneath my robes to palm my aching arousal through my trousers. I bite my lip at the initial contact and squeeze my eyes shut as a hiss of pleasure escapes from my lungs.

I hear you chuckle. “You can keep your eyes closed if it helps you sleep better at night.”

My eyes fly open to see his arm reaching out to grasp mine and pull me down next to him on the bed, both of us on our backs. “I’ll leave them open, thanks. I’ll have no problem sleeping either way.”

“Good,” you reply, turning your head to face me while adding your other hand to your cock, one at the base and one at the tip, meeting each other in the middle as you continue stroking languidly. “Have you ever played with your ass, Sirius?”

This question should strike me as odd, but considering the fact that I’m rushing to unbutton my trousers and free my cock from its restrictions, nothing could surprise me.

“No, can’t say I _have_ ,” I answer, unintentionally extending the last word when my hand finally meets my cock skin-to-skin.

“You should try it,” you say, using the same influential tone that we both use with Peter when we want him to do something stupid to amuse us. “It’s better if someone else does it, though. The angle is a little uncomfortable if you do it yourself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply, the mental images of you finger-fucking your ass somehow making my cock grow harder.

“Watch,” you demand breathlessly as you draw your knees up to your chest and stretch one arm between your legs so that your fingers rest underneath your balls. Your other hand grips your cock painfully tight while your face contorts at the intrusion you inflict upon yourself. I can’t see the actual point of entry from where my head is resting on the other end of the pillow from yours, but I have a pretty good idea what you’re doing.

“There’s this spot,” you manage to tell me through gasps for air. “Inside. It… feels good, I dunno. Always makes me come.”

Your hand speeds up on your cock as you toss your head back against the pillow and inadvertently lower your hips to the mattress, losing control of your contortionist-like position. You laugh shakily and say, “Told you it was uncomfortable,” before lifting your knees again and plunging your fingers back inside.

“I can hold your leg up if you want,” I offer, noting how raspy my voice sounds. You want to come so bad that you’re completely red in the face, your cock throbbing within your jerky grasp and your naked form trembling with the force of your impending climax.

“Thanks mate,” you say gratefully, smiling despite your attempts to catch your breath. Your skin feels unusually smooth and hot to the touch as I loop my arm around your thigh and hold it down to your chest, burying my head above your shoulder in the process.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you swear, your voice directly in my ear. I can’t see you anymore, but I can feel you using my arm as leverage to buck your hips upwards against your fingers, meeting yourself thrust for thrust. I feel your balls tightening alongside my elbow, and your knuckles graze the hairs on my arm as you pump your cock for all it’s worth. I feel the surge that races through your body as you finally achieve release, spilling onto your stomach and moaning deeply from your throat.

I let go of your leg and scoot back, intending to give you space to come down from your orgasmic high. Instead, you roll over onto your side and grab my exposed cock firmly in your hand, still slick from your juices.

“James, I-” I start to protest, but the feeling of having someone else touch me is too good to finish the statement.

“I want to thank you,” you say casually. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard before.”

“It was nothing,” I say truthfully.

“So is this,” you counter as you stroke my length from base to tip, tightening your hand around my rigid flesh. “Show me how you like to have it done.”

Wordlessly, I reach my hand down to cover yours, intertwining our fingers together around my cock. I urge you to squeeze slowly upward and slam back down, keeping your thumb pressed into the slit. You catch on quickly and groan with me as I abandon your hand in favor of tugging on my balls.

I’m not going to last very long; my hips are erratically lifting off of the bed in time to your strokes. My breath is staggered and my mouth is dry, and I can feel your eyes on me as the familiar heat pools in my belly. You seem to sense my rapidly-approaching orgasm and speed up your efforts to the point where they become jerky and sporadic; I place my hand on yours to even out the pace.

“James,” I gasp, fighting to regain control of my breathing, “I’m gonna come.”

“Good,” you say for the second time tonight. I open my eyes to see you leaning up on your elbow, looking down at me through hooded lids, and the heat in your eyes is enough to push me over the edge. I let out a strangled moan as I clamp our hands around my cock, milking it thoroughly as it explodes all over our hands and my abdomen.

I abruptly snatch my hand away; you linger for a second before doing the same. With a satisfied smirk, you reach for your wand and cast a cleaning spell on both of us before straightening your shirt and leaning over the edge of the bed for your pants. I fumble with my trousers, taking care to avoid my very sensitive cock, and by the time I return my attention to you, you are fully dressed and trying unsuccessfully to tame your hair with your fingers.

“I’m starving,” you say. “Let’s go raid the kitchen.”

I grin. “All right.”


End file.
